


caroling

by Waywarder



Series: Simply Having an Ineffable Christmastime [12]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Drunken Shenanigans, Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Making Out In a Fancy Hotel, holiday fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:02:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21772657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waywarder/pseuds/Waywarder
Summary: In which Aziraphale and Crowley go off on a holiday adventure, and some drunken shenanigans ensue.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Simply Having an Ineffable Christmastime [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1558789
Comments: 9
Kudos: 61





	caroling

_Seems like a lot of fuss over chestnuts,_ Crowley thought, trying very hard to be cool and unaffected, but I mean, look at Aziraphale:

The angel was luminous, standing there in the fanciest hotel room overlooking Central Park that had happened to be miraculously available this close to the holidays. Things had moved pretty quickly after Crowley had floated the New York City idea. 

“You’re not serious,” Aziraphale had challenged, once they’d finally come up for air after kissing on the floor.

“Oh, try me.”

And Aziraphale had shot him that impossibly shy, fond little smile of his, and Crowley had snapped his fingers, and there they were.

It was a beautiful room, of course. Aziraphale had standards. They were very drunk and so so happy, and what’s a little reckless magic to two immortal beings? If you could snap your fingers to get yourself and the love of your life across the world just for some chestnuts, wouldn’t you do it too? 

“Whatever makes you happy, angel.” Crowley heard himself saying. He wasn’t even sure what it was in response to anymore. It was just the truth. 

Aziraphale, if it was possible, perked up even more. He really was radiant. The ever-present Aziraphale-worry seemed to have melted off his face, and he had even taken his coat off. He swiped the bottle of champagne from Crowley’s hand, polished it off in one, and then leaned forward to kiss Crowley fiercely before the demon had time to breathe. Crowley grinned. _Letting go a little looks good on you, angel,_ he thought to himself. He paused at that. _Why am I keeping things to myself anymore?_

“Letting go a little looks good on you,” Crowley called out. Wait, where the fuck was Aziraphale going? The angel had grabbed his coat again, and was headed for the door. “Aziraphale?”

“Ssh,” Aziraphale whipped back around with a flourish of his coat, a finger to his lips. “It’s a surprise.”

_Fuck’s sake, he’s completely sloshed,_ Crowley looked around, taking in all the empty bottles. He rose to stand, and nearly toppled over. _Okay, me too._

“Angel, where are you--”

Aziraphale crossed back to Crowley, placing his hands firmly on Crowley’s shoulders. The angel looked up into Crowley’s eyes, and the earnestness in them was just about enough to make Crowley’s knees buckle.

“It’s a surprise,” Aziraphale pleaded, blue eyes shimmering. 

Crowley knew, had known, had always known, will never forget again that he was incapable of denying Aziraphale anything.

“Sure, Aziraphale,” Crowley went to put his hands on Aziraphale’s waist, but the angel had already turned back to the door.

“Don’t follow me!” he shouted over his shoulder.

“You’re a fucking weirdo,” Crowley called back, meaning it with every lovestruck bone in his body.

Aziraphale went out the door, and shut it behind him. Crowley stood there alone in their ludicrous hotel room, blinking. 

A moment went by, and there was a knock at the door. Crowley sighed indulgently, and went to answer it.

Of course, it was Aziraphale standing there, hands clasped together in front of him, looking terribly pleased and proud of himself. 

“Aziraphale--”

Aziraphale fluttered his hands dramatically to shut Crowley up, and then quickly regained his posture. The angel took a deep breath, and then:

“ _God rest ye merry gentlemen, Let nothing you dismay..._ ”

This absolute dork. 

Crowley folded his arms, and leaned against the doorframe, grinning like the idiot he was. He let Aziraphale get all the way through the song (though, in his inebriated state, the angel forgot the words and needed to start over several times), and then applauded valiantly. Aziraphale, exceedingly delighted with himself, tipped his head in a tiny sort of bow. 

“I’m Christmas caroling!” Aziraphale exclaimed, gesturing to himself as if, for some reason, it was his appearance that was the clue. 

“Yeah, I got that,” Crowley smirked a little, unable to resist. “Well, if there’s nothing else…” And he went to turn away, and shut the door.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale gasped. He was such a dramatic drunk. “What are you doing?!”

“I mean, you don’t invite the carolers inside afterwards, do you, angel? I’m just trying to do right by these traditions you love so much.”

Sweet, pure, drunk Aziraphale seemed so unable to process this turn of events that Crowley very nearly relented, and let him back inside. But, no, Aziraphale had started this game, and Crowley wasn’t going to let him off that easily.

“I don’t suppose there’s anything you have to offer besides your songs?” Crowley thought himself terribly sexy and clever.

And, sure, of course, they were going to get there, but Aziraphale finally had another idea. He grabbed Crowley by the arm, and yanked him out into the hallway with him. He threaded his arm through Crowley’s firmly, and then gazed back up into Crowley’s eyes with that terribly sincere, stubborn expression.

“Christmas caroling,” he said, voice deadly serious. 

Crowley opened his mouth to protest, but you know what? They were in New York, and it was Christmastime, and Aziraphale was on his arm.

Fuck it. 

So, off they went, arm in arm, knocking on strangers’ hotel room doors, and drunkenly caterwauling “Good King Wenceslas” at them. And in between rooms, they laughed, and sometimes one of them would stop to press the other one up against the fancy wall, and kiss him long and sweet and slow. 

And that was the time they got kicked out of the Ritz-Carlton New York.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a big, soft moron, and this made me happy to write. I'm glad to be back in the present with them in love and happy, especially after the last two prompts. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


End file.
